Chapter Text
The locker room is nearly empty. The air is thick with steam from post-practice showers, fogging over the mirrors and leaving everything feeling slightly damp. Barou hears a shower shut off and ignores it as he gathers his things from his locker. His kit is safely stored in a sealed bag until he can properly clean it, with separate bags for his shoes, towel, face towel, and various toiletries.
The wet thump of a heavy, freshly-showered body hitting the bench sounds from behind him. It could be any of their heavier players. If he’s unlucky, it’ll be Shidou and Barou will have nightmares about all the sperm he probably left on the shower floor, or it could be Aryu, and he’s in for an unpleasant, one-sided bout of noisy gossip (and nightmares about long strands of hair left in the shower drain).
“Barou-chan,” an unmistakably sing-song voice comes from behind him. Ah, it’s the third, even worse option: one of the co-captains of the new U-20 team, Aiku Oliver.
Barou’s shoulders hunch, hackles raised automatically as he turns around. It doesn’t matter if he braces himself: Aiku is distracting when he’s naked. Or in this case, with his towel draped loosely over the tops of his large thighs, like it’s pure accident it even covers his groin at all. It definitely doesn’t cover the trail of dark hair leading up his stomach, or the patchy chest hair spread across generously-muscled pectorals.
Barou’s known he was gay for as long as he can remember, but generally regards attraction as unworthy of his time. Aiku just manages to make himself… difficult to ignore. He’s beginning to suspect it’s on purpose.
“Barou-chan, my eyes are up here,” Aiku adds, his smug little grin audible in his tone. Barou’s eyes snap up, and he bares his teeth in response to Aiku’s knowing look.
Before he can retort, he hears the last shower shut off, a shower curtain swish almost violently, and then the sound of bare feet running wetly across the locker room floor. Shidou skids around the corner seconds later, leaving damp footprints everywhere, sopping hair stuck to his face and neck in pink-blond strands. Barou stares at him in dismay.
”What’re we looking at?” Shidou yells in pure delight, sliding the last few feet and throwing his arm around Barou’s shoulders. And getting his clean shirt wet.
Nevermind that Shidou is naked, a state he apparently tries to achieve as frequently as possible—Barou doesn’t care about that. But the strength of his body hitting Barou’s side, the weight of his arm, the way he’s vibrating with energy is upsettingly compelling. Barou has to remind himself that he isn’t attracted to Shidou, he simply refuses to be. He puts the full strength of his iron will into not being attracted to anyone on their team of imbeciles, but Aiku had already put cracks in his mental fortitude and Shidou is as pretty as a carnivorous flower.
That’s why Barou freezes instead of immediately breaking as many of Shidou’s ribs as possible before Aiku manages to stop him.
“Me-ow,” Shidou says, tilting his head as if trying to achieve Barou’s exact same point of view. His wet hair leaves cold tracks down Barou’s cheek as he considers Aiku. “Yep, just what I expected. Captain-chan’s bosom is incredible! So don’t worry, Mr. Evil King, I wouldn’t be looking at his eyes either.”
To Barou’s mortification, Aiku cups his own chest and winks at them both. “Aw, shucks. Not even gonna take me out to dinner first?”
“Careful, captain, I might take you up on that,” Shidou says in a low, promising voice that makes the hair on the back of Barou’s neck rise. Shocked out of stasis, Barou growls and shoves Shidou away hard enough he nearly skids into Aiku.
“You got me wet,” Barou snarls, “I’m gonna—“
“Most people love when I get them wet,” Shidou says happily, then yelps when Aiku swats his ass.
“Alright, git,” Aiku tells him, “I don’t wanna have to break up a fight, lovebug.”
”Boring!’ Shidou yells, but trots away, snagging his track pants off the counter (disgusting) and stepping into them as he heads for the door. Barou wonders for a moment if he’s really going commando in his dirty sweats, but decides he’s already been through enough hardship and doesn’t need to inflict any more Shidou-related thoughts upon himself.
They both listen to the locker room door swing open and slam shut. Then Aiku says, “I wonder what kind of dinner date Shidou would take me on? I feel like raw meat would be involved. Maybe oysters. Strippers? No—burlesque.”
“I’m leaving.” This is not a conversation Barou ever wants to have. He throws his neatly-packed duffel bag over his shoulder. “I need to go sanitize everything that pervert touched.”
“Oh, wait, I wanted to ask you something,” Aiku says, standing. His towel falls to the ground. Barou resolutely stares straight into his eyes. He’ll die before becoming the freak in the locker room who can’t be normal about other naked people.
“What is it?” Barou asks tersely.
“You didn’t come to the onsen with everyone last time.”
Barou flings an arm out to point in the direction Shidou went. “And why do you think?”
“I mean, it’s pretty obvious why,” Aiku says, grinning as he picks his towel up and wraps it around his waist. “It was a great place though, you should go before we head back to Tokyo. Actually, we can go today after dinner.”
“We?” Barou is rightfully suspicious.
“Just us two,” Aiku says, like he’s doing Barou a huge fucking favor. “Unless you want me to invite more people?”
Barou scoffs. “If I go at all, it will be alone.”
“But then who will wash that gorgeous back of yours?” Aiku asks, unperturbed. “So I figure we can head out after dinner; it’s not far. I’ll make a reservation.”
“I’m not going,” Barou says disdainfully and makes himself walk towards the exit. Trying to argue with Aiku is impossible, and they both know he’ll probably be dying to escape the hotel sooner rather than later. Their team isn’t exactly quiet, and if the noise wasn’t enough to drive Barou up a wall, the second-hand embarrassment over their horrific manners would do it.
By eight that night, Barou’s back in the showers with Aiku—this time, at the local onsen Aiku had mentioned.
He’d lasted about five seconds watching Aiku try to scrub his back before insisting on doing it himself. Aiku was surprisingly cooperative and now Barou’s working out the day’s frustrations on Aiku’s skin, which has turned a nice shade of reddish-pink. He has freckles on his shoulders. Barou reminds himself not to be gentle.
“Hm,” Barou says, lifting the sponge. He might be done with this area, and therefore with his excuse to touch Aiku.
Aiku looks up over his shoulder at him. “No, don’t stop, I still have a few layers of skin left.”
“Ungrateful wretch,” Barou drones. The shower is perfectly warm, and the body soap they have actually is nice—a light fragrance, not overpowering. It’s hard to stay angry.
“Thanks for washing my back, Barou-chan,” Aiku says agreeably. “I really wasn’t telling you to stop, you know.”
“I’m done anyway,” Barou mutters. “Here, get mine. And don’t slack off.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
True to his word, Aiku does a thorough job. Barou almost expects to feel Aiku’s hand on his ass or something similarly lecherous, but the touch never comes. Aiku even listens when Barou tells him to redo an area, or scrub harder. Unbelievable.
He watches Aiku closely as they finish washing off, but he cleans himself to Barou’s standards. Every muscled inch of his body is lathered up, scrubbed, and rinsed. It’s clear he’s no slacker, if their time playing together hadn’t already proved that a hundred times over. Aiku is one of the few who occasionally join Barou’s daily workouts, and even if he gratuitously whines the whole time, Barou had come to suspect he did so more to provoke conversation than from actual hardship.
It’s only once Aiku leads them towards the pool that Barou realizes he’s had his eyes on Aiku’s body all night, and is he the one who’s a pervert? Unnerved, Barou stays quiet as he ties up his hair. Then he realizes there’s no one else there, and the pool is relatively small.
Aiku must have noticed his hesitation, because he pauses at the edge and explains: “I reserved a private room. We’ve got an hour in here.”
Barou tenses. An hour alone with Aiku? “Why?”
Aiku doesn’t share his apprehension, easing himself into the pool with a contented sigh. “‘Cause you’re not gonna really relax with a bunch of strangers running around. You’re welcome, by the way.”
Barou grunts in response, too surprised to actually say anything because Aiku’s right. It only takes one energetic kid or stupid tourist to ruin the bath for everyone and if this place is actually that popular, there’s a high chance of either or both occurring.
The water is steaming and the night is clear and cool. It’s all ideal. The only thing that could make it better was if Aiku hadn’t invited himself along… no, Barou can’t lie to himself. When he keeps his mouth shut, Aiku is pleasant company.
Barou climbs into the pool, sinking in up to his neck and shutting his eyes in bliss. His muscles slowly relax, and he can feel his body begin to properly reset after the post-match adrenaline dump. If only they could do this every time, he might actually be nice to people sometimes.
A faint rustle reminds him Aiku is there too, and Barou narrowly opens his eyes to check on him. It’s nothing nefarious, though, just a towel now settled on Aiku’s head. Steam rises from it faintly. In the muted lantern light, Aiku looks less like an attention-seeking loser; his wet hair just looks black and with his eyes closed, he could almost be any unshaven salaryman off the street.
Even so, the lack of obvious purple and neon don’t make him any less striking. Shadows follow the long lines of his neck, exposed from how Aiku’s head is tipped back to rest against one of the rocks lining the pool. His damp skin, so meticulously cleaned by Barou earlier, seems to shimmer in the humid air. It makes his hair curlier, too, where parts are beginning to dry.
Barou doesn’t realize he’s staring until Aiku’s eyes drift open and meet his.
“Everything up to your royal standards?” Aiku teases, though too mellow for even Barou to take offense.
Barou huffs softly. “It’s not bad.”
“Not bad? From King Barou-chan himself? I’ll put that on my resume,” Aiku murmurs, sinking a few inches deeper, then letting out a satisfied hum. “This is almost better than clubbing.”
”Everything is better than clubbing,” Barou grunts.
“Well, that’s true around here. Local nightlife blows.”
Barou makes himself look away, up at the stars, the patches of darkness where clouds cover the night sky, the blinking lights of planes passing overhead. He asks, “Why’d you do all this?”
“Well, you deserve a chance to relax too.”
”I chose not to go with everyone. I can handle the outcome of my own decision.” He sounds more ungrateful than he means to, but Aiku doesn’t seem bothered.
Aiku’s complacent expression finally gives way, and he looks more like his mischievous self again. “Okay, fine, you got me. Me and Karasu figured we shouldn’t just let everyone terrorize you into hiding in the hotel the whole trip.”
“Other people don’t terrorize me,” Barou hisses under his breath, “I terrorize them.”
“Semantics,” Aiku waves him off, making ripples in the water with his wrist. “Anyway, it’s not like there’s any decent nightlife out here for me to indulge in, and we’ve barely gotten to hang out properly since the NEL,” he pouts.
Barou frowns at him, not wanting to admit that he’d also appreciated his time on the Ubers. He hasn’t yet managed to fully take over the U-20, but he also hasn’t forgotten that Aiku was the first to back him in that game against the Bastards. He still catches himself thinking of Aiku as his general, his defender.
That hasn’t changed in the short time that they’ve been practicing as part of Japan’s new U-20 national team, nor had it changed during their first away game, held earlier today.
Then Aiku says, “Also, you deserve a chance to be in the onsen without Nagi’s spit in it.”
Barou full-body shudders at the memory of that pale freak blowing bubbles in the communal pool, other thoughts forgotten momentarily. “You got that right,” he growls.
Aiku raises his eyebrows as if to say, see?
Barou doesn’t deign to respond. He’s too busy considering that Aiku might actually have no ulterior motive for doing all this. The disappointment settling in his stomach is absurd, but it’s there anyway. At least Aiku shuts his eyes again, so Barou can go back to absolutely not looking at his collarbones in peace.
Back in the hotel, Barou is feeling relaxed enough to tolerate Aiku’s arm thrown over his shoulders without complaint. It’s near time to sleep, so he’s eager to get to his room. Then he sees, of all things, a revolting sock on his door handle.
“What the hell,” Barou growls under his breath. “I’m gonna kill Kiyora.”
Aiku starts busting up laughing for no goddamn reason, saying something about how Barou should “wait” or “stop,” which he absolutely won’t do.
He yanks open the door, all the more furious for how peaceful he’d been feeling earlier. “Don’t put your dirty laundry on the door handle!” He yells, full volume, “Why would you even—”
Then he registers the sight before him. He’s yelling at Karasu’s half-turned back, who has twisted around to stare at him with abject shock. Beneath him, Kiyora sits up to peek around Karasu’s side, like Barou coming into his own room is just a mild curiosity. Karasu has turned bright red, face twitching like he’s trying to come up with a cool expression despite being caught red-handed.
“What’d’ya want? We’re busy,” Karasu says, snatching up a pillow and covering his crotch with it. Unfortunately, he’s too late to stop Barou from seeing the harness and thick, purple dildo he’d apparently been using on Kiyora.
“I’m gonna to start chargin’ ya for staring,” Karasu drawls. The effect is ruined by his red ears.
“Why—what—how dare you defile my room like this,” Barou snarls.
Kiyora’s eyes go half-lidded. “Our room. What we’re doing is having sex, and we’re doing that because we wanted to. Have you never heard of knocking?”
“I shouldn’t have to knock to enter my own room!”
“Hey now, we even put a sock on the door,” Karasu shrugs. “Sorry budzo, everyone gets sexiled sometimes. We’ll be done in about…”
“A few hours, if you know what’s good for you,” Kiyora says, looking up at Karasu. “It’s not like you can’t keep it up.”
“You disgust me,” Barou says, voice shaking with actual revulsion.
Karasu’s pink, scandalized expression turns distinctly cold. “Let’s not get ugly about this,” he says, shifting slightly in front of Kiyora. Protectively. Barou bristles, prompted to aggression by Karasu’s defensive stance.
“You two actually are sickening,” Barou says, grabbing the offending sock with a disdainful thumb and forefinger and tossing it towards Kiyora’s bed. Karasu’s chin jerks up, like he’s going to fistfight Barou, harness and strap and all.
Before anything can happen, Barou feels Aiku’s arms around his waist, pulling him back to Aiku’s chest with deceptive strength.
“Hey, hey, I’m sure he doesn’t mean it like that,” Aiku interjects, hooking his chin over Barou’s shoulder. His stomach flips over in fury; no one should be able to manhandle him with such ease. Before he can voice a protest, Aiku goes on to say, “he’s probably just mad you’re not using a condom—sex toys can transmit diseases as well if they’re not properly cleaned, you know.”
Karasu’s jaw drops.
Aiku adds, “Barou-chan might be a little bristly, but he’s definitely not a bigot.”
Barou stills, eyes darting between Karasu and Kiyora’s face. “I’m not a—a what? What the hell are you jackasses talking about?”
Karasu’s eyes narrow as he stares down Aiku. “Gay people can still be transphobic, ya know.”
It finally clicks into place, and it pisses Barou off almost as much as the sock on the door handle had.
“Transphobic?! ” he screeches. Aiku flinches away, but keeps his hold on Barou’s middle. Barou pays him no mind, yelling, “why would I give a shit about trans people when you put a sock on a doorknob?! It’s disgusting! It’s the same as shoving your nasty foot into someone’s hand! Did you even pick a clean sock? I’m going to have to bleach the whole fucking door!”
Behind him, Aiku is shaking with laughter, face buried against Barou’s shoulder to muffle his giggles. Karasu looks even more shocked than before, and Kiyora is looking off to the side with what should be guilt and is probably just apathy.
“WELL?!” Barou shouts.
“Uh, we used one of Tabito’s,” Kiyora mutters. “Don’t know if it was clean or not.”
A vein bulges in Barou’s forehead. Karasu, at least, looks sheepish. Being one of the team’s captains has somewhat improved his middling personality. He says,“Sorry, dude, shoulda thoughta that. I promise we’ll clean the door when we’re done, okay? We’ll use your wipes an’ everything.”
“Well, that’s settled!” Aiku chirps loudly. “Barou-chan, you can crash with me if you want.”
Barou finally wrestles away from him, glaring. “I do not want to, but it’s better than spending another second with these savages.”
He grabs his toiletries as quickly as possible, shooting the two in bed one last death glare before shoving Aiku out of the room and slamming the door behind them.
Aiku trails after him as he storms down the hallway. He feels twisted up, oddly guilty and still angry, but also just frustrated at not being understood. No one ever fucking understands anything.
“So,” Aiku says from behind him, sounding cheerful, “now you know what sexiling is! Isn’t that fun?” Barou whips around, ready to yell at Aiku. Aiku’s come to a halt, pointing at one of the doors. “Also, here’s my room. Me and Karasu always room together ‘cause the co-captains thing, so he obviously won’t be here. I figure it’s fair game to use his bed.”
Barou makes a face, but still follows Aiku into the room. It’s neater than he expects, no clothes strewn across the floor, no suspicious smells. Aiku takes off his shoes and puts on slippers, then leads the way in.
“This is me, and that’s Karasu’s,” he says, pointing at the beds. Aiku’s bed is made surprisingly nicely, like he had housekeeping come in and tidy during the day. The only objectionable part is the several boxes of condoms and bottle of lube on his nightstand, but he supposes that’s better than Aiku not using condoms at all.
Karasu’s bed is… a problem; Barou takes one look and recoils. The covers are halfway pulled down, and across the sheets is a mess of sex toys, lingerie, and other paraphernalia Barou wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. He takes a step back.
“Absolutely not,” he declares. Aiku looks over, then laughs.
“Oh, Karasu must’ve been getting ready for his big date. Probably wanted to impress that curly-headed twink, huh?”
Barou couldn’t care less. “I am not sleeping on those sheets.”
“You can use my bed,” Aiku says, waving away his concerns. “All the sheets are clean; I had them replaced this morning.”
Barou frowns. “Why?”
Aiku’s smile turns impish. “You sure you wanna know?”
“Why am I surrounded by filthy peasants,” Barou sighs.
“You should be grateful! I’m so filthy that I’ll even use Karasu’s gross nasty bed so you don’t have to,” Aiku tells him, which, good point. But he’d worked hard to scrub Aiku clean, and the thought of his bare shoulders against that defiled fabric… he shudders.
“You shouldn’t sleep there either.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Aiku says, angling to start clearing off Karasu’s bed. Barou holds out an arm to stop him.
“No. I didn’t go to all the effort of scrubbing your back clean just for you to rub it all over Karasu’s sex toys,” Barou snaps. “Don’t be disgusting.”
Aiku pauses, shirt pulled over his head but still resting on his upper arms. “Okay, that does complicate things.”
“I’ll find somewhere else to sleep,” Barou says irritably. It’s getting late. It’s his bedtime. The goodwill built up from an hour of peace in the onsen has run dry.
“Wait, hang on,” Aiku says, taking his shirt off the rest of the way and tossing it onto Karasu’s bed. “I can find somewhere else to sleep easy, you can still use my bed.”
“Really.”
Aiku winks at him. “Gimme ten minutes on Grindr and I’ll have a place to crash.”
Barou stops trying to leave, his back to the door. His face is pinched with emotion, but he’s not sure what exactly he’s feeling; he just knows it pisses him off to hear Aiku talk like that. Not even because of the inherent risks of casual sex, but just… Aiku would rather go to all that trouble to fuck a stranger than share a bed with him? Aiku’s not even going to suggest it?
“Why the hell are you being so nice?” Barou says, crossing his arms.
Aiku’s smile fades into confusion. “I’m always nice, Barou-chan. What’s wrong?”
“Just—what’s the fucking catch,” Barou says. “You doing all this shit. The onsen. Giving me your bed. There’s gotta be a catch.”
“There’s no catch,” Aiku says impatiently. “We’re friends, man. I don’t need a special reason.”
“Right,” Barou mutters. Aiku evidently doesn’t want him like that, which is completely fine.
Aiku looks at him for a long moment. Refusing to back down, Barou meets his eyes with a stare of his own. Finally, Aiku’s lashes lower, and he goes from looking puzzled to something more predatory.
“You sound so unhappy,” Aiku says slowly. He takes a step forward. “Are you unsatisfied, Barou-chan?”
Barou’s back bumps up against the door. He swallows hard, hands making fists where they’re tucked against his ribs. “Get to the point,” he orders.
Aiku draws even closer. “Did you want there to be a catch? Is that why you keep asking?”
Barou’s mouth goes dry. Humiliatingly, Aiku is correct. Barou realizes he’s been waiting all night to get hit on, and Aiku never even made a move. It was insulting. Infuriating. Frustrating, Aiku is always so damn frustrating.
“Shut up,” Barou says hoarsely.
“You know I never do that,” Aiku says. His smile returns, but now it’s too promising, too knowing. He reaches out slowly, then runs a finger down the center of Barou’s chest.
Barou holds completely still, muscles locked, afraid to move and scare him away even as he’s half-mad with indignation that Aiku dared to touch him at all.
“What did you think would happen, Barou?” Aiku asks in a low voice. “Was I to run a hand up your thigh in the pool? See if you got a little excited from seeing me naked? I know you were looking.”
“I wasn’t,” Barou protests. His voice is so dry it cracks.
Aiku tilts his head slightly, eyes shadowed by his bangs. “Or maybe this was all a ploy, maybe I sent Karasu away just to get you alone in my room. Trick you into bed. Kiss along your perfect jawline once you’d fallen asleep. Do you think I would do that?”
Barou swallows hard. He regrets his fitted track pants now, as they do nothing to hide the swelling between his legs. Aiku finally steps back, all the lechery clearing from his face just like that.
“Or did you think I only do things for my friends for sexual favors?” Aiku asks, his usual jovial tone long gone.
Is Aiku actually insulted? Barou doesn’t go out of his way to be nice, but he hadn’t meant to imply all that, or to hurt Aiku. He grits his teeth, willing his cheeks not to burn at being misunderstood yet again. It stings worse, somehow, when Aiku is the one who fails to understand him.
“That’s not what I—no. I don’t think that. Sorry,” Barou says gruffly. “I’m leaving.”
“Hey, hey, don’t run off,” Aiku says quickly, before Barou can even turn towards the door. “As long as you know it’s not like that, we’re all good. No hard feelings, Barou-chan.”
Barou watches him uncertainly, unsure why Aiku’s grin is so sunny now. Then Aiku steps up, leans in, and puts his hand on the door right next to Barou’s head like he thinks he’s a lead in one of the crappy dramas Barou’s mother watches.
“So, Barou-chan. Was I right? Are you looking?” Aiku’s tone is sickeningly suggestive.
“Huh?” Barou flattens himself against the door, pulse pounding. Aiku’s moods change so quickly, so easily. He can’t keep up, and he hates it.
“‘Cause the obvious solution is sharing my bed,” Aiku says, still smiling. “I wasn’t gonna suggest it, I didn’t want you to think I did all this just to get in your—” his eyes dip down, then run up Barou’s body, lingering between his legs, “—rather tight sweatpants, which is true. But I’m certainly not opposed.”
“Right,” Barou chokes out, fairly mortified. Aiku shoves in even closer until he’s mere inches away, and Barou’s whole field of vision is Aiku, Aiku, Aiku.
Aiku’s voice purrs from his chest as he says, “I’ll share more than my bed with you, Barou-chan. I’m very generous.”
It feels like he’s thinking through static. The only thing Barou manages to say is, “Have you been tested for STIs recently?”
Aiku blinks at him, backing off in his surprise. “Woah, you really do wanna fuck.”
Barou clenches his jaw. Thankfully, Aiku recovers quickly.
“I was tested a week ago,” Aiku says, “Did you know Blue Lock will do your panels for free? But also…” he trails off, rolling his eyes slightly, “I have had several partners since then.”
“I saw your condoms,” Barou says haltingly, barely managing to stop himself from commenting on how Aiku apparently managed several partners in the last week alone. “You. Used them. Right?”
Aiku pulls a face. “Weeeell… not if they didn’t tell me to. It just feels so much better raw, you know?”
Barou glares at him, unreasonably disappointed, though mostly in himself for expecting anything else. After a moment, Aiku backs off with a shrug.
“Or maybe you don’t know. Anyway, it’s not like there isn’t other stuff we can do.”
Barou probably should leave. Worst case, he’ll book another room with his own money. If Aiku had propositioned him this morning, he’d have shut him down harshly, if not with physical violence. He’s not sure what’s changed, but he finds himself pushing past him and setting his things down by Aiku’s bed.
“I’m gonna go wash up,” Aiku tells him. Barou doesn’t look over, instead organizing the bedside table and arranging his things to his satisfaction. He hears Aiku in the bathroom, the unmistakable sounds of brushing his teeth, gargling mouthwash, and splashing noises. He’s probably otherwise clean since the onsen.
As disgusting as Aiku might be otherwise, Barou can’t find much to complain about. Even if he considers it bare minimum, he’s pleasantly satisfied that Aiku took initiative to clean himself.
He follows suit once Aiku’s done, barely acknowledging him as he enters the bathroom and ignoring Aiku’s curious look. He stares himself down in the mirror, forcing himself to face what he’s doing. Taking Aiku as a lover, even for one night, feels dangerously out of character but the truth is it’s been a long time since Barou’s done this. Possibly too long.
The only person he’s been with was a boy on one of his high school teams, who’d been enamored enough with him to practically beg for it. His name had been… Tsukasa, Barou thinks. Barou had hated it a lot less than expected, though he recognizes now that his tolerance for Tsukasa had more to do with his willingness to follow Barou’s various rules than actual attraction on Barou’s part.
Barou knows his standards for hygiene, behavior, and so forth are too much for most people, but Tsukasa had done whatever he wanted. Never pushed back. A proper servant for a king, Barou thinks with disinterest, spitting mouthwash into the sink. He knows better than to expect that from Aiku.